Cheers, Potter.

Espionage

       
Draco's POV

I was nervous; there was no point in trying to hide it from myself or anyone else. This would be the first time I'd have to face the people I'd hurt and tormented for years, see them up close and personal. I didn't know how I'd handle it, or even if I could.

I didn't really focus on anything else all day, the usual drivel just blurred into one endless monotone and I just had questions floating around in my head: why was I invited? Who else would be there? Should I actually go? What if it was a trick?

What if I enjoy myself? a part of me optimistically thought.

"Mr Malfoy," Professor Flitwick called expectantly, "are you still with us?"

"Yes, sir."

~Ж~

For some reason, I'd been dreading talking to him about tonight but it was getting too close and I definitely wouldn't go without him, it was now or never.

"Blaise, do you, uh, do you want to go to a thing at the Broomsticks?"

"Oh, that can't be good," he replied throwing a teasing glance towards Theo, who was still giving me the cold shoulder, "you're mumbling and being vague – that spells disaster, mate."

"Potter invited us to a party-type thing at the Three Broomsticks, do you want to go?" I got it out as quickly as I could but it didn't have any effect on my dorm-mates reaction.

"We were invited?" Blaise asked incredulously and I nodded in response, Theo groaned so I spelled a wordless silencing charm at his bunk with a flick of my wrist.

I just shrugged at Blaise's question – really it made no sense to me either. They should all squarely hate the both of us, but they were intrinsically good, so I suppose that had something to do with their charitable natures.

"Golden boy and the other two seem okay with us, and Luna is as Luna does," I almost smiled at the remark, "I don't know what the rest of them will say, apparently we aren't the only Slytherins going though."

He stood there, a shell-shocked look on his otherwise perfectly formed face.

"Well?" I asked impatiently.

Finally, frowning he started, "What should I wear?"

"Is that a yes?"

"And what on Earth are you going to do with your hair?" he shook his head, hands already combing through my blonde mop disapprovingly, "it's hideously long."

"Get your mitts off me, you cretin, you're not going anywhere near my hair," I laughed, smacking his hands away from me playfully.

~Ж~

We decided to walk to Hogsmead, I'd initially objected on account of the wind doing irreparable damage to my hair which I had spent the better part of an hour styling. Blaise eventually convinced me by saying if we flew or flooed, it wouldn't be safe to drink. There was no way I would be sitting through an entire night out with countless rowdy Gryffindors without being dangerously inebriated.

As we stepped inside, the familiar and comforting smell of warm cider and crumbling pork pies welcomed us. Surprisingly, so did Potter and his entourage. It was Granger who waved us over, and I only saw a single grimace when the others turned to find us stood there. I chalked that down as a win.

Much to our relief, we weren't the only of the group who were not part of the 'inner circle'. Theo had decided to come along, I supposed he'd been invited but hadn't planned on going until Blaise and I said we were. He'd not been as cold as the others but hadn't spoken to me since the War, so I guessed he was too proud to get ready and walk with us. Ferne Rowle, whose father had fought for the Death Eaters in the war was also there. She looked a little uncomfortable but Luna Lovegood was seeing to it that she went unexcluded.

"Okay," Granger began, "now that everyone's here, we just thought we'd call everyone here to start fresh, promoting house unity and all that." No one spoke, just looked uneasily at each other.

"Drinks?" Seamus Finnigan piped up; that was a suggestion that everyone could get on board with.

After a few rounds of Beetle Berry Whiskey and Cider, everyone managed to filter into easy conversation. I'd been trying to edge closer to the more Slytherin side of the table, despite Blaise's encouragement to the contrary, when I was roped into a discussion about potions homework with none other than Dean Thomas. My mind wandered as we talked, I noticed that he gesticulated a lot when speaking passionately about something, I appreciated that he didn't seem fazed by the fact that I was there at all. He was genuinely kind with no reason to be so, especially to me. When Finnigan returned with another round of drinks, so was everyone else.

After a while I needed to excuse myself and slunk off to the loo.

I was washing my hands when I heard Potter's obnoxiously loud – and slightly slurred – voice from the corridor, talking to who I assumed to be Weasley, since the two never seemed to be very far apart.

"How did you manage to get so many people here at such short notice?"

"You underestimate 'Mione's ability to people-please, mate," came the red-head's reply, and as an after-thought, "and the appeal of free drinks."

Both chuckled.

"You know, it is a bit mental that we threw a bloody party just so you'd have an excuse to talk to Malfoy," I felt my face flush, and I questioned whether I should be listening or not, "Unlike usual, you've barely looked each other's way."

"It's not a party," Potter defended, "I just thought it was about time we started being nicer to each other,"

"Sure," his friend scoffed, "you went out looking for Malfoy, invited to a party that wasn't happening yet and then arranged that party in the space of, what? 4 hours?"

"Geez, Ron, you make it sound like espionage," he laughed, "And besides, Hermione organised it, not me,"

I didn't know what to think of the conversation, I didn't know if I should be flattered, shocked, irritated, or all of the above, so I settled for ignoring it. I consulted the mirror to make sure the blush had left my cheeks, adjusted my hair and took a deep breath.

I left the bathroom and walked past them both with my head up, acting like I'd heard nothing. The look on Potter's face was priceless and it took all the willpower I had not to smirk at him, but I thought that would be counter-productive to my plan of ignoring it all.

I sunk back into my chair at the table and returned to the bustle of conversation, and put what I'd heard out of my mind for the rest of the night.